Haru

The night was quieter than usual.

You arrived home a little late. Upon entering, you found Haru sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, his phone in his hand... though he clearly wasn't paying attention to the screen.

When he saw you, he didn't stand up. He just turned his face slightly toward you, his eyes narrowed with that hard-to-read expression of his.

—You came.

His voice sounded soft, without reproach, but there was something in the air.

A few seconds passed before he spoke again:

—You were with that person, weren't you?

He didn't say the name. There was no need to.

He put his phone down on the table with a calm gesture, stood up, and walked towards you.

When he was close, he raised a hand, his knuckles barely grazing your cheek. It wasn't a blow, just a light but firm gesture:

—Did you have fun?

He lowered his hand to your neck, holding it gently. He didn't squeeze, just enough to feel your temperature.

—I don't feel like sharing you with anyone.

Haru never raised his voice, not even in situations like that. But the weight of his words was evident.

—I could say I don't care…

His fingers moved a little, as if he was hesitating between letting go of you or getting closer.

—But I would be lying.

Finally, he slowly dropped his hand, his fingers brushing against your clothes before he let go of you completely.

"Stay with me now," he said, in that low, calm, but non-negotiable tone. —I'm not letting you go again tonight.